Thoughts for my son a week before his 17th birthday

I love you.
Be like me at 40, not like me at 17.
Oh, seventeen. How much did I love 17? How much did I abuse it? Much.
Your heart is all over the place, your skin itches, you want to break free, you want to see the whole world, you want to eat life, I know, baby, I know.
And mom is crazy, mom is irresponsible, mom is wrong, right now, in your mind, but trust me, my only son, when you are thirty, you will understand me. You will understand what I have done, what I have sacrificed, what I have made from NOTHING so that you would never truly know WANT.
So that you would never know really know, LACK. So that you would never know the true essence and smell of real POVERTY. You never have to thank me for any of this, you never have to love me or need me or believe me, because of it, just listen to me… I love you.
You can always come home.
There is nothing that you could do that would make me feel differently. You could vote another party, you could love many men, like I have, you could skip college, you could waste my money and I would still feel the exact same way. I love you, dearly and for always.
You’re a brilliant, talented, and thoughtful man, already…
You’re standing on the edge of the bird’s nest ready to fly-
You’re the very best of your father, the very best of me, nature designed you to be so..
You’re able and capable and alive and wise beyond your years
And yes, whenever you leave the room, I cry.
You are the reason, my only son, that I am even here on this planet, so thank you.
I love you more than anyone else ever will.
Be like me at 40, if you can my love, not like me at 17.
Oh, seventeen.
Everything to gain and nothing to lose. 17.
I will always be here. 17. 36. 67….in my heart…
Leap if you have to, young sir, Leap. Now is the time, mister seventeen…
Act on what I have taught you although I know its not much-
I promise, for now and for always, I have your back-
As long as I rock steady on the wet rock where we all reside at the moment, baby, it’s you. I love you. Be every bit of great that you can.
I’ll help as much as you need.
Love,
Your crazy, poetic, silly, sentimental, grateful, thankful, appreciative, Mom… we exist because the other one exists….

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Queen Rude

Poet and Author originally from Indianapolis, Indiana, lover of words, expressions and creativity. Mother of one, Member of the Ohio Poetry Association, former member of the California Writers Club, Winner of the Barry Wright Scholarship for Poetry and consummate Dorothy Parker, Nikki Giovanni and Pablo Neruda fangirl.
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